


Good Country People

by JackEPeace



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, The Purge, frighteningly imminent dystopian futures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 03:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7418638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackEPeace/pseuds/JackEPeace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the annual Purge. At the siren, all emergency services will be suspended for 12 hours. Your government thanks you for your participation.</p>
<p>-or- </p>
<p>A Skimmons Purge AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Country People

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how it happened but the Purge has become one of my favorite alternate universes to dabble in and I was particularly excited by the scenes for the newest Purge movie. This story is primarily inspired by the plot for The Purge: Election Year but some parts were also inspired by scenes from The Purge: Anarchy. This story got just a bit longer than I'd anticipated but I figured once I got started...why not! 
> 
> Since this story is about the Purge, there are several references to violence and death. 
> 
> The title comes from the story of the same name by Flannery O'Connor because she thought of all the best titles and I just have to borrow them.

"It's not safe here." Daisy doesn't look at Jemma as she speaks, too busy tightening the straps of the heavy vest that she's fitting over her body. "We have to move."

Jemma has been pretty mute on the subject up until now. She listened to the announcement signaling the start of the Purge without comment. She listened to the sound of the siren over the noise of her heavily pounding heart. She took in the news that the guards outside had been killed and that there was a security breach without offering so much as a sound of surprise. She's even stood perfectly still, letting Agent Johnson -Daisy- pull a bullet proof vest over her head and tug and pull and she was dressing a rag doll. But Jemma isn't entirely sure that she can take this without protest.

"Move?" Jemma repeats incredulously, looking at Daisy. "What do you mean move? Go out there?"

There's fear in her voice. Jemma isn't going to beat herself up over it.

Daisy cinches the final strap on Jemma's vest tight, nearly jerking Jemma off her feet. She reaches out to steady herself on Daisy's shoulders and tries not to think anything of it.

"Yeah. Out there." Daisy finally looks at her and her face is frustratingly impassive. "We don't have any other choice."

Jemma's mouth drops open and she glances over her shoulder toward Fitz, who is methodically working at chewing off every fingernail. Agent Mackenzie is standing by the door, body tense, gun drawn. But so far they haven't heard any sounds outside in the hallway; the only noise is the low din of Purging going on outside.

Outside. Where Daisy wants them to go.

Jemma's mouth is dry. "We can't go outside." She whispers.

"We have to." Daisy pulls out her own gun, checks the rounds. She doesn't look entirely satisfied but she doesn't bother to comment. "They're in here right now, Ambassador Simmons."

Jemma jabs a finger toward the window, covered with thick, protective metal. "And there are even more people out there!" She hisses and the racing out of her heart makes it easy to forget the sting of Daisy's address.

"But they aren't looking for you." Daisy points out. "Specifically."

Jemma shakes her head. "I'm off limits." She says and tries to ignore the pompous way that the words sound. "They can't…they can't kill me."

Not that that knowledge does much to help the fear coursing through her, threatening to spread from her bones and blood and body to her brain and shut her down completely. She swallows, pressing her nails into her palms in an effort to bring her back to the present.

Daisy fixes her with a look. "No one cares." She tells Jemma flatly. "Those rules aren't going to save you now."

Jemma doesn't say anything at all. There's nothing to say. She just looks at Fitz again; he's moved from his nails to his cuticles, looking small and afraid in his own bullet proof vest. They're all wearing one but instead of making Jemma feel better, it just makes her even more panicked. She's never worn a bullet proof vest before, she's never needed to. She's never been in America during the Purge, watching the footage from her office safely back in London, face a picture of disgust and sadness. She has no idea how she ended up here, now. She worries about the other Ambassadors that she came with; are they going to be a target too?

A thump sounds from the corridor and Jemma draws in a shaky breath. Daisy glances over at Mack and they exchange a look before Daisy nods and Mack tightens his jaw. Daisy walks back over toward Jemma but even now her cool and composed demeanor hasn't changed. She's doing a great impression of a robotic version of her ex-girlfriend.

"You need to stay behind me." Daisy tells her, reaching for Jemma's arm and pulling her toward the door like she thinks Jemma is just going to stay behind. "No matter what, okay? Stay behind me."

Jemma nods, trying to swallow. The fact that it feels like her heart is in her throat makes that pretty difficult.

Daisy's face finally softens and she gives Jemma's arm a squeeze. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

It seems like a pretty lofty promise to keep but Jemma isn't exactly going to argue right now.

Mack throws the door open and the gun fire starts almost immediately. Jemma is pretty sure that she screams but she can't hear herself over the sound of the automatic weapons roaring. She's shoved into a body and realizes it's Fitz only seconds before they both hit the ground. Jemma presses herself to the carpet and tries to figure out if she's already dead or if she'll be gone before she even finishes this particular thought.

Of course, it's too loud for her to be dead and Jemma feels like she can't do anything but lay still with Fitz's body half over hers and she's pretty sure it's only been five seconds before she's utterly exhausted of praying that none of them are getting shot right now. She wants to lift her head, to look for Daisy but she's too afraid. She tries not to beat herself up over it; it's very difficult to be unafraid with the sound of assault rifles exploding all around you.

It goes quiet and Jemma is pretty sure that means that she's finally dead. Why else would everything suddenly go quiet. The air smells like sulfur and her ears are ringing and Jemma can still feel the scratch of carpet beneath her cheek. All things that suggest against death but she's still a little leery.

Slowly, Jemma lifts her head, glancing over her shoulder just as Daisy comes over and grabs her arm, pulling her to her feet. Mack is there helping Fitz up as well, clapping him on the back. Daisy's eyes are busy, jumping across Jemma's body quickly without touching down. "Are you okay? Did you get hit?"

"No." Jemma shakes her head, shocked at the idea that this is true. "What about you?"

She can see blood on Daisy's cheek and forehead and on her hands. "Fine." Daisy says as though this isn't the case. "Let's go."

Honestly, Jemma isn't opposed to the whole 'going outside' idea anymore. She doesn't feel particularly safe in this office anymore.

Daisy and Mack spend a short amount of time divesting the dead bodies of their weapons and Jemma can't stop looking at the men crumpled on the floor. There's three of them, each wearing black and grotesque face masks that make them look like jungle animals. Clearly this is what they mean when they say 'release the beast.'

Mack leads the way through the hallways that Jemma has walked through time and time again, usually in the company of other Ambassadors or the senator currently running for president. Never before have the halls been so empty and quiet; never before has ever second been heavy with the possibility of danger.

The building is deserted; most of the politicians and their aides have gone home to spend time with their families and wait out the Purge. At least, that's what Jemma always assumed they were doing; it makes her stomach roll to think about some of them out there Purging. Jemma keeps her eyes down, focused on the tile beneath her feet. Just a few hours ago she walked this same path with these same three people by her side. Of course, Daisy and Mack hung back, standing as silent sentries while Jemma talked business with Fitz and some of the others. Now there's no one to talk to and nothing else to say.

Mack leads them around the back of the building, to a door that Jemma has never noticed in all her visits to the government building. The alleyway behind is empty, thankfully and the night is at full darkness now that the sun has gone down. A few streetlights still flicker but several have been shot out or are just plain not working. Jemma wraps her arms around herself even though the air is thickly hot and she feels weighted down by the vest she's wearing.

"So what now?" Fitz questions, glancing over his shoulder so often that Jemma is impressed that he doesn't give himself whiplash. "What's the plan?"

Daisy tightens her grip around the automatic weapon in her hand. She looks slightly out of place holding it but Jemma does feel a little safer now than she did before. This is the kind of firepower they need on Purge night.

"I think we can get to the Embassy." Daisy says, though she doesn't seem sure of herself. "I don't think even the most adventurous Purgers would try to get in there."

"I still don't understand." Jemma says, looking at Daisy beseechingly. "You think those people are targeting me specifically?"

Daisy shrugs and actually manages to muster up a smile. "Why do you think you've got the extra guard duty?"

Jemma feels her blood run cold and her head fill with a buzzing sound. "This can't be happening." She whispers, inhaling sharply. "This…this can't…" Being in the middle of the Purge is one thing. Being a target is something totally different.

Everything starts going fuzzy, grey around the edges and the buzzing only gets louder and Jemma feels like there's something sitting on her chest, making it impossible to get a breath and-

"Hey." Suddenly Daisy's face comes into sharp focus and Jemma can feel the weight of her hands on her shoulders, pulling her back out of the tunnel she felt like she was slipping into. "It's going to be okay. We just have to get to the Embassy. It's not far."

It's far enough but Jemma just focuses on the way it feels to have Daisy touching her again and the fact that they're so close and it feels like the time that stretched out between them when they were apart is suddenly gone.

Jemma swallows and nods. "Right. Let's go." After all, she's an Ambassador. She has two PhDs in things that aren't even related to politics. She's held her own in this boys' club for quite some time. She's not exactly a helpless wilting flower here.

Mack once again takes the lead and Daisy the rear, fitting Jemma and Fitz between them. Jemma focuses on scanning the streets around them, listening for the sounds of approaching Purgers and the tell-tale sounds of violence. Unfortunately, there's plenty of that. A street over, Jemma can hear someone screaming and begging for mercy; just beyond that is the echo of an assault weapon and the cling of the shells hitting the asphalt. The air smells acrid and metallic and if she looks up, everything seems to be covered in a haze. But so far there doesn't seem to be anyone following them or anything up ahead.

Jemma glances over her shoulder to see Daisy lagging behind slightly and she slows her own pace, falling into step beside her. She looks her over and quickly notices a dark patch on her thigh. "You're hurt."

"It's not serious." Daisy assures her, waving Jemma away before she can come to a stop and look at the injury more thoroughly. "Grazed by a bullet. It's fine."

Jemma rolls her eyes. "We have different definitions of the word fine." She mutters. "Thank you for sticking around. For helping us."

Daisy shrugs. "It's my job." She replies, tucking her hair behind her ear, not meeting Jemma's eyes.

Jemma remembers when her hair was longer and she used to twine her fingers through it, letting her nails brush against Daisy's scalp and laughing at the reaction it caused in her. But the short hair suits her as well; it definitely suits the new flintiness in her eyes.

"Some job." Jemma remarks. "I'm sure you didn't think you were going to be acting as an escort on Purge night."

Daisy purses her lips before finally glancing over at Jemma. "I volunteered." She admits. "Not for the Purge night thing but…for escorting you when you were in town."

Jemma studies her, trying to figure out if she's being completely honest with her. But she could always tell when Daisy was lying. "Why?" She asks. "We haven't spoken in two years. I haven't…I didn't exactly leave things off in the best way…"

"Oh, I know." Daisy assures her with a smirk which somehow manages to take away some of the sting of their history. "But it's not like I'm going to trust anyone to look out for you. I trust Mack. And I trust me."

Even though Daisy's words are having a strange warming effect on her, it does little to help the fear and foreboding creeping through her body. "Why do I feel like you know something I don't?"

For a minute it seems like Daisy is just going to dismiss the whole subject and go back to the Agent Johnson persona that she's been perfecting for the past three days. Jemma is pretty sure this is the most they've spoken since she arrived in DC and was shocked to discover that one of her escorts was her ex.

"Look, people talk." Daisy says finally and Jemma is just relieved that they're still talking. "You've been pretty vocal on your opposition of the Purge and standing with the Senator and people don't like that she's trying to make the Purge illegal so…if there's no Senator and no one supporting her it'll be pretty difficult to make that happen."

Jemma's eyes get wide. "You think someone is targeting her?" She asks breathlessly. "And her supporters? But I'm not even American."

"Probably makes it even worse." Daisy replies. "You know how Americans feel about foreigners messing with their stuff."

Jemma isn't sure if that's meant to be a joke but it doesn't feel very funny. Especially given the fact that it's pretty true. She'd never been the most popular person with most politicians because of her habit for using the word 'barbarity' and kicking up dust whenever she was dispatched to America. Clearly her being here during the Purge was not an oversight or an accident after all.

"So that's it, then." Jemma mumbles. "They're after me because I'm supporting the Senator."

Daisy nods. "Right. But like I said, I'm not going to let anything happen to you." She assures Jemma. "So if they want to get to you, they're going to have to come through me."

Jemma quirks an eyebrow. "I'm sure plenty of people would be happy to do that." She points out. "And when did you get so cocky? I don't remember this side of you."

"There's a lot you don't know about me anymore." Daisy says and instantly looks like she regrets the words, wincing slightly. "I mean…"

"It's fine." Jemma assures her though that tightness in her chest is back. "I…I'm the one who left."

She says this part so softly that Jemma isn't entirely sure that Daisy even hears her over the scream that splits through the quiet of the night. Instantly Daisy freezes, the muzzle of her weapon snapping up and she reaches out to push Jemma behind her. Mack has his weapon up, pointing it in the direction of the sound. Someone screams again and Jemma pulls in a shuddery breath.

Mack motions and Daisy nods once and, surprisingly, they move toward the sound. Jemma isn't entirely sure that's the best course of action but it's not like they're in the best arena to start debating.

They come to the alley just as another scream echoes across the bricks, only this time the sound is cut short by the sound of something solid hitting something meaty. Jemma closes her eyes but forces herself to open them again as they step into the mouth of the alley.

It's a woman, her face and blonde hair flecked with blood. She stands out of her kneeling position, turning toward the alley. The second she sees them, her face goes white with panic and she immediately puts her hands up, dropping the iron pipe that was previously clutched between her fingers. "Please. Please don't shoot." She blurts out quickly. "Don't hurt me."

Jemma looks from her to the body on the ground. There's a large bowie knife laying just out of reach of his thick fingers and upon closer examination, Jemma can see that the woman's blouse is torn and missing several buttons. She narrows her eyes slightly. "You're not Purging."

It's not a question but the woman shakes her head quickly anyway, keeping her hands up. "God no. I would never…" Her eyes flick toward the man on the ground. "He tried to…he was going to…I was just trying to get home…"

Jemma glances at Daisy, who gives the slightest shake of her head. She can easily read the skeptical look on her face: don't trust her.

But Jemma can't help it. Maybe that's what put her in this position in the first place but…she doesn't feel like this woman is lying.

Mack seems to be thinking the same thing. He lowers his gun slightly, stepping toward her. "Do you have any more weapons on you?"

"No." The woman says, eyeing the weapon in Mack's hand cautiously. "I'm just trying to get home." She says this again and her tone is different, almost fearful. "I just want to go home."

"We aren't Purging." Fitz assures her, clearly trying to set her at ease. "We're just trying to make it to safety."

It sounds like an invitation. Jemma watches Daisy's face to see how she feels about this abrupt change in their plans. She doesn't tell the woman to get lost or act like she's about to shoot her so that's probably a good sign.

The woman's expression becomes less guarded, apparently having figured that she's better off taking her chances with them than going off alone. "My name is Bobbi." She says finally, stepping closer to them. "Where are you guys headed?"

Fitz answers, though Jemma doesn't miss the way that Bobbi picks up the previously discarded pipe, wrapping her fingers tightly around it. She doesn't blame her; she wouldn't mind a security blanket right about now.

They start off again and Jemma sticks close to Daisy, though it has little to do with safety reasons. "How's your leg?" She asks after they've gone a block in silence.

"Fine." Daisy says again, once again causing Jemma to question whether she actually knows the meaning of the word.

"You've been limping." Jemma points out like Daisy isn't aware of this. "We should stop and-"

"We can't stop, Jemma." Daisy says flatly. "We got lucky with Bobbi. The next person we see isn't going to be as friendly."

Jemma can't argue that point, even though it sounds like a dire prediction. "Daisy, look-"

Daisy rolls her eyes. "You haven't changed at all." She mumbles. "You're still trying to take care of me."

Jemma matches her eye roll. "Because you're so terrible at taking care of yourself." She retorts. "It's a wonder you survived this long."

Daisy snorts out a laugh. But if she's going to offer a verbal response, she doesn't get the chance. Because they're coming to an intersection and it's obvious that they aren't the first ones.

Even if the intersecting roads were silent, Jemma would still feel painfully exposed. There's no cover here, no buildings to stick close to and no alleys to duck into. She can see a cluster of people on top of some of the buildings at the cross streets, blasting music with a pounding base and tossing things down onto the street below. But it's not the people above that worry Jemma.

There's a group gathered in the intersection and Jemma can easily see their weapons and macabre costumes in the flickering light provided by a car engulfed in flames several yards away. There's a body slumped against the vehicle but the person is definitely past helping at this point.

A trio of women in flowing white dresses dance around an RV parked in the center of the intersection, giggling and trading knives back in forth like it's part of their dance routine. A handful of guys stand close to the RV watching them; they have beers in one hand, guns and machetes in the other, their faces obscured by plastic masks.

It's the man on the hood of the RV that worries Jemma the most. He's got a megaphone in one hand and a high powered assault rifle hanging from each shoulder. Jemma is pretty sure that there's some other hardware hanging from his belt if the glint of metal is any indication. His shirt, as well as the RV, is emblazoned with the slogan of the man who currently calls himself President: Keep America Great. Keep the Purge.

The man is ranting into his megaphone, crowing about the importance of the Purge and releasing the beast. Every sentence he says gets a cheer from the people around him and those on the roof. When someone really likes what he has to say, the sound of gunfire punctuates his words.

"It's okay." Daisy says softly, moving closer to Jemma. "Keep your head down. I'm sure they won't recognize you; they don't look like they watch the news much."

Jemma does as Daisy instructs, tilting her head down so that her hair partially obscures her face. Of course, this means that she can't see what's going on around her, relying on Daisy beside her and Fitz's feet in front of her.

There's no way to cross unseen. Sticking close to the buildings on the side they've been traveling on will take them further from the Embassy instead of closer and it seems like a necessary risk to try and move past the RV and its sentinels and continue on their way.

Jemma forces herself to walk slowly, casually, as though prowling through the streets on Purge night is the type of thing that she does all the time. Daisy loops her arm through the crook of Jemma's elbow, letting her own weapon hang loosely at her side.

"You there! Friends!" The megaphone echoes against the buildings and down the streets. "Are you proud of your right to Purge? Are you embracing your right to Purge?"

Daisy grins at him over Jemma's bowed head, holding up her weapon. "Hell yeah!" She pulls the trigger and Jemma nearly jumps out of her skin. The bullets fire into the air and the action is met with raucous cheering. "Release the beast!"

The man howls into his megaphone and the sound is animalistic. "That is some military grade shit there, my friend." He says. "I used to be military. Sergeant Garrett, decorated and everything. And I come back after fighting for my country and they tell me they're going to take away my right to Purge! My right as an American! Hell no!"

More shouting and howling and gunfire and Jemma is just glad that they haven't actually slowed their pace to talk to Garrett and his buddies. She can't wait to be as far away from this place as possible.

Garrett starts shouting into his megaphone about making America great and Jemma is pretty sure that those words have never sounded more terrifying. Someone fires a gun and Fitz stumbles in front of her, startled by the sound. Jemma jerks her head up so that she doesn't go crashing right into his back, taking a step backward.

"Hey…" Garrett pauses in his political ranting and Jemma can't help but look in his direction. She immediately regrets it, kicking herself and whipping her head back in the opposite direction, hoping her hair falls quickly into place. Not that it matters. "I know you…"

Daisy tightens her grip on Jemma's arm. Jemma swallows, unable to resist the urge to turn her head back in Garrett's direction, meeting his gaze and lifting her chin slightly.

"You're a supporter of that bitch Senator." Garrett jabs the megaphone in her direction. "You're on her side. You want to get rid of the Purge."

Garrett keeps talking. He keeps ranting about his right as an American citizen to murder people once a year. He keeps yelling about the new Founding Fathers and what they want for his country. But it doesn't matter. Because once the people gathered around his RV heard the words 'get rid of the Purge' they didn't need to hear anything else.

Neither does Jemma. And neither does Daisy. They start running, joined quickly by the other three members of their party and Jemma finds it pretty difficult to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other with the sound of gunshots making her flinch every second. She's expecting to feel the sting of one of those bullets at any second. Or, worse, she's expecting to stop feeling anything at all.

Daisy looks over her shoulder, her weapon briefly angling upward before she seems to decide against it and focus all her attention on running instead. "Hurry." She pants, like they aren't doing that already. "Faster."

Jemma can't resist the urge to follow suit and glance backward, immediately regretting it. The pack of Garrett's heavily armed buddies is more than too close for comfort. She thinks it's purely the fact that they're running too fast to aim well that's keeping them alive right now, not that that's stopping them from firing their weapons or brandishing their machetes and knives.

"Here!" Mack's voice sounds over the noises of impending death and their course veers left, toward the entrance to an underground subway station. "Go! Now!" He all but shoves Fitz down the stairs and Bobbi follows suit quickly.

Jemma doesn't waste any time hurrying after them, nearly stumbling in her haste to get away from the prospect of her imminent death. By the time she realizes that Daisy and Mack aren't behind them, she's already off the stairs, gasping for breath. She turns back the way they came and she can see Daisy and Mack standing at the top of the stairs, creating a sort of human blockade that fills Jemma with a wave of panic all over again. She calls out Daisy's name, taking a step back toward her but Fitz grabs her before she can actually do anything about her fear for Daisy's life, pulling her backward.

Not that she would have done much good anyway. The world seems to erupt in gunfire once more and even though Jemma feels cowardly, she turns her head away, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. If something happens to Daisy and Mack and they're about to be caught by a group of Purgers, she's not entirely sure that she wants to witness those moments.

But finally everything goes silent again and when Jemma looks back toward the stairwell, it's Daisy and Mack who are tromping down it. Mack has a hand pressed to his shoulder and Jemma can see blood between his fingers but neither of them seem to be worse off than that. Thankfully.

Seeing Daisy alive and whole nearly makes Jemma's legs buckle beneath her and she just barely manages to keep herself upright. It's even more difficult to resist the urge to run to Daisy and throw her arms around her, holding her close and burying her face in the side of her neck. Jemma figures that she lost the right to do something like that a while ago. She wonders if Daisy still uses the same shampoo and if she'll still smell like lavender.

"Come on." Daisy gestures wearily, moving away from the staircase. "We don't want to anyone to realize that we're down here."

They move a few yards out of the sight of the stairwell and Daisy drops onto one of the benches, sighing heavily and leaning against the wall behind her. The rest of their group does the same, settling onto a bench a few feet away and Fitz starts talking to Mack quietly, gesturing toward his shoulder.

Jemma sits down beside Daisy, reaching out tentatively and resting her hand over Daisy's. "Thank you." She says softly.

Daisy gives her a tired smile. "All part of the job description." She teases. Her smile quickly turns into a grimace and she leans her head back again, closing her eyes tightly.

Once again Jemma is filled with the gut-twisting nausea that comes from being completely terrified. She can't stop the way her hand tightens around Daisy's. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did they-"

"No." Daisy assures her. "My leg is still bothering me…I wasn't really expecting to go sprinting through the city tonight."

Jemma frowns. "I'm sure you weren't planning on actually being out during the Purge." She says softly.

Daisy's eyes find hers. "Don't do that, okay?" There's a gentleness to the bullying tone in her voice. "It'll be over soon. And we'll get to the embassy and everything will go back to normal in the morning."

It's not difficult to hear what Daisy isn't saying out loud. Jemma can hear it in the way their eyes linger, in the way that she hasn't pulled her hand away from Jemma's, in the way that makes the air thick between them. It makes it hard for Jemma to just wish that things would go back to normal as soon as the sun came up.

But rather than point any of this out, what Jemma says is, "Take off your pants."

It's totally worth it just to see the way that Daisy's eyes get absolutely huge. Jemma would almost worry about them popping right out of Daisy's skull if such a thing was possible.

Even though it's Purge night and they've almost been killed and people are being killed right above them, Jemma laughs. The sound echoes through the empty subway station and is almost startling.

"I want to look at your leg." Jemma adds, managing to swallow down her smile. "You can't just keep walking around all night pretending you're fine."

Daisy looks at her skeptically. "Jemma-"

"It's fine." Jemma smirks. "It's nothing I haven't seen before."

And maybe they shouldn't be joking, especially not right now. And not when all Jemma has been able to think about all night, in between all the almost death, is Daisy and their relationship and how she was just an idiot.

Daisy's eyes flick toward where Fitz, Mack and Bobbi are but it's clear they aren't paying attention. So she finally just rolls her eyes, undoing the button on her pants. "I seriously hope there's no one else down here." She mumbles. "I really don't want to die half naked."

Now it's Jemma rolling her eyes. "So dramatic." She teases, pulling her phone out of her pocket and using the flashlight app to see Daisy's wound more closely.

Daisy was right, it is just a graze but it still looks painful and it's still bleeding. Daisy helps her tear off a strip from her shirt and she sets about trying to wipe as much of the blood away as possible. "It's probably going to scar." She remarks absently.

"Hey, scars are bad ass, right?" Daisy questions, wincing as Jemma rubs none-too-gently at the injury. "At least it'll have a good story."

Jemma makes a noncommittal noise; it feels better to focus on the future, the time when Daisy will get to tell these great Purge night stories, rather than focus on the next few hours which they might not even survive.

"I used to worry about you getting hurt all the time." Jemma says softly as she wipes away the blood as best as she can. "Even though you were just in the Academy, I thought about it all the time."

She's never mentioned this to Daisy before but what better time than right now, when Daisy is already hurt and it's probably not going to be the last time of the night.

Daisy looks at her closely, her brow furrowing. "Is that why you left?"

Jemma looks up, surprised. "Daisy-"

"No, I know. I get it." Daisy interrupts before Jemma can finish. "You had a job offer to be an Ambassador and you wanted to go back home…I get it."

Jemma worries her bottom lip between her teeth, unsure of how to respond to Daisy's words. She feels like there was so much they didn't say then, so many words that got lost in the anger of the moment. She's not sure how to fix that.

She looks back down at Daisy's thigh, taking the bloody piece of cloth and starting to tie it over the injury. Jemma sighs, letting her hands rest on Daisy's skin and looking up at her. "I wanted you to come." She whispers.

"And I wanted you to stay." Daisy gives her a lopsided smile that doesn't reach her eyes. Despite the expression on her face, Jemma knows that there's nothing but seriousness in her voice, to her words.

Jemma swallows. "Maybe tomorrow we could-"

"Daisy." Mack's voice echoes through the tunnel and makes Jemma jump in surprise. Daisy looks up and Jemma is pretty sure that she can see disappointment and annoyance flicker across her face. Or maybe she's just protecting. "Can I borrow you?"

Daisy looks back at Jemma and rolls her eyes. "Am I all set, Doc?" She smiles softly.

Jemma gives her a wane smile in return and a thumbs-up. Daisy gets to her feet, pulling her pants back on and hobbling off to go talk to Mack. Judging by the serious expressions on both of their faces, their conversation is Purge related.

With a sigh, Jemma settles back on the bench, drawing her knees up to her chest and letting her eyes flutter closed. There might be only a few hours left in this year's Purge but her exhaustion is starting to kick in.

It isn't long before she feels someone sit down beside her and when Jemma opens her eyes, she's surprised to see Bobbi sitting there beside her. Obviously this isn't the best time of the year to get to know someone but she knows next to nothing about the woman who has found herself a part of their group.

Bobbi looks just as exhausted and terrified as the rest of them but Jemma can see curiosity sparkling in her eyes. "So…you're like a politician?" Bobbi questions. The metal pipe is still in her hands like she just wants another chance to use it.

Jemma nods. "Sort of." She admits. "I'm an Ambassador for the UK. I'm here in hopes of helping stop the Purge." She scoffs. "This is definitely going to give me more motivation."

Bobbi smirks. "Yeah, no kidding. Nothing like a firsthand experience to really make you hate something." She says. "By the way, I totally support getting rid of the Purge."

"Who wouldn't." Jemma grumbles.

Though that question is obvious rhetorical. They have a pretty good idea who is for the Purge.

They're quiet for several beats but when Bobbi glances back toward Jemma, her expression is slightly more impish than before. "So…what's going on with you and Agent Johnson?" She wiggles her eyebrows like they're school kids instead of adults hiding in a subway station.

Jemma snorts out a laugh. "That's what you're worried about right now?"

"What?" Bobbi shrugs. "Aren't you supposed to have a little fun on Purge night?"

* * *

 

"We aren't going to be the only ones down here," Mack says, "but it'll be safer traveling underground for a while. We can get closer to the Embassy."

Fitz looks uncomfortable; despite everything they've been through tonight, he looks paler and more anxious than he has since the Commencement. Jemma knows that he'll never say anything but being stuck underground is probably the worst thing Fitz can imagine; she's been well acquainted with his claustrophobia since they were kids. He keeps glancing upward, to the sides, all around, behind them, his brow beaded with sweat.

Jemma puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. "It's going to be okay." She assures him, keeping her voice quiet so as not to attract the attention of the others. "We'll be at the Embassy before you know it."

Fitz manages something Jemma assumes is a smile. "If we don't get lost…"

"We won't." Jemma says forcefully, her eyes jumping toward Daisy, who is walking several feet in front of them. "We're in good hands."

Fitz rolls his eyes. "I'm glad the Purge was the thing you needed to rekindle your relationship with Daisy."

Jemma swats at his shoulder, glad that it's too dark for Fitz to see the blush that creeps across her cheeks. Is that what she's doing? Is she actually trying to start things up with Daisy again? And is she actually thinking about this when all their lives are in danger?

It's not like there's anything else to do. It's too dark to see much of anything and Jemma is pretty sure that she can't think about the monotony of their footsteps anymore or focus on every little sound, expecting her impending death. Thinking about Daisy is as good a distraction as any.

Daisy is currently occupied, talking to Mack in hushed tones, occasionally pointing toward their weapons or checking them over. Neither of them look too optimistic, though Jemma thinks that she might be tempted just to stick her head in the sand and continue on like everything is going to be fine.

Or, as fine as it can be on this particular day of the year.

Mack was right about one thing: they aren't the only ones in the subway tunnel. There are clusters of people taking shelter on the raised platforms or on the tracks. It eventually becomes obvious that no one is down here to Purge -quite the opposite- but the first couple of times they see the groups, Jemma nearly goes into cardiac arrest anyway. In one of the groups is a woman with two small children clutched tightly to her side; the younger boy starts crying as soon as he sees the weapons that Mack and Daisy are carrying and even though they quicken their pace and carry on their way, the sound of his crying still echoes through the tunnel long enough to make Jemma's heart heavy.

She really hopes that the Senator makes it through tonight so they can do something about this.

Jemma eventually falls into step beside Daisy again; she's pretty sure that she doesn't want to be close beside her purely for safety reasons. The frustration and tension that she felt upon arriving at the Capitol building and learning that her personal escort would be none other than Daisy Johnson is gone. It's almost like they were never apart at all, except for the whole fact that it's been way too long since Jemma has kissed anyone, Daisy in particular.

Bobbi peers at a plaque bolted to the wall, attempting to read the words through the graffiti and darkness. "We're getting close to the stop." She points out. "Unless these signs are outdated…I don't spend a lot of time down here if I'm not on a train."

Fitz shudders. "Who would?" He grumbles and seems just fine when no one pays him any attention.

"We should go back above ground." Daisy glances toward Mack to see how he feels about this plan. "We don't want to go too far and get turned around."

Mack frowns, scrubbing a hand across his face. "We're almost out of ammo." He says and Jemma wonders if they're supposed to hear this particular piece of information. "I told you an axe-shotgun would have been useful."

"Next year." Daisy assures him, patting him on the back. "I'll make sure your dream comes true, Alfie."

The expression on Mack's face suggests that Daisy might not make it to the next year if she keeps using that particular nickname.

There's a ladder bolted to the wall, leading upward into the darkness. Even though Jemma understands the logic of avoiding the entrances and exits of the subway station, it's not exactly like she's eager to go climbing through the dark and poking her head above ground. They have no way of knowing where they're going to pop up. As long as they aren't right in the middle of another Keep America Great rally, she figures they've got a pretty good chance.

Daisy climbs above her and Jemma can see her favoring her leg. Soon. Soon they'll be out of this and they'll be able to get help. They just have to go a little bit further.

As terrifying as the subway was, it's even more frightening to be exposed yet again. Jemma thought she would enjoy the open space, the clean air…but the open space feels far too open and the air isn't exactly clean when it's tinged with smells of smoke and other things Jemma would rather not put a name to. It almost makes her miss being in the stifling subway tunnels.

Once they orient themselves, they start again in the direction of the Embassy. Even though there are only a few hours left of the Purge, it seems to be still going strong. The air is heavy with the sounds of gun fire and screams and protests; if anything, Jemma is sure people are only ratcheting up the destruction, trying to make the most of the time they have left. It seems impossible to believe that as soon as the sun starts to come up on the siren goes off, signaling the end of the Purge, that everything and everyone will just go back to normal.

Like before, they stick as close to the sides of buildings as possible, trying to stay away from potential snipers on the roofs or windows and trying to avoid being noticed by anyone who might be around. Of course, this isn't without its own problems; Jemma is starting to get pretty good at ignoring the bodies -both complete and otherwise- slumped in doorways or in front of businesses and apartment buildings. She doesn't let her eyes linger for too long, doesn't let herself really get a good look at the people who haven't made it through this year's Purge. She just keeps her eyes down, focusing on her feet and those of the group.

Daisy reaches for her hand at some point, lacing their fingers together. Jemma holds on tightly, gratefully, wondering if it would be possible to walk just like this until they make it to the Embassy.

Unfortunately, luck is not on her side. On a night like tonight, it seems like luck just doesn't exist, like the universe has abandoned them completely to their own barbarity. At least, that's what it feels like when the sound of motorcycles cuts through the air, overpowering the sounds of people Purging streets over.

Before they can do much about the possibility of the approaching motorcycles, they're already being surrounded. Jemma finds herself sandwiched between Daisy and Fitz and she reaches backward to grasp his hand as well. They might have made it this far but those statistics mean nothing on Purge night.

There are a half dozen men sitting astride motorcycles, their faces mostly hidden under elaborate painted designs. One of them isn't very decorated at all and Jemma is surprised by how young he looks; insanely, she thinks about what he does every other night of the year.

Mack and Daisy both lift their guns and Bobbi even brandishes her pipe but nothing can help the heavy feeling settling in Jemma's stomach. It suddenly seems obvious that they're out numbered and, more importantly, out matched. It suddenly seems like an inevitability that they aren't going to make it further than where they are now.

One of the men revs his motorcycle, feigning a lunge toward Mack. Mack fires and after that, all hell seems to break loose. There's noise -gunfire, roaring engines, shouting and jeering and taunting- and Daisy finally pulls her hand free, pushing Jemma backward. "Run! Now!"

This isn't exactly the time to protest, to argue, to lobby for looking after herself. Jemma turns, pulling Fitz along with her. The chaos has broken up the circle of motorbikes and it's easy to slip through, to find an opening and just start running. They're heading down another side street and Jemma doesn't bother wasting time thinking about what's further down the road or, more importantly, who might be down there. It doesn't matter. Whatever is in front of them will either be better or worse than what's behind them.

And a quick glance shows that what's behind them is one of the face-painted men on the motorcycle. He's whooping as he chases after them, gaining ground faster than Jemma would like to admit. He's got one hand on the handlebars of the bike, the other wrapped tightly around the baseball bat that his brandishing like a player about to knock one out of the park.

Jemma's lungs are burning, her heart feels like it's going to burst from the exertion and the terror coursing through her body and her legs are shaky, threatening to quit on her. Not that it matters. None of the efforts she's made are going to make a difference. Because the motorcycle has caught up and is about to overtake them.

The rider swings the bat, the wood connecting solidly with Fitz and making a sound that Jemma is pretty sure she'll never forget no matter how long she lives. Which might turn out to be shorter than she'd ever planned.

Everything after that seems to happen at once. Jemma screams, though she's not sure if it's before the bat hits Fitz or during or after, it all sort of bleeds in together. Fitz starts to fall and he pulls her down with him, their hands still linked together. The breath gets knocked out of her, her knees and palms burn and she suddenly feels so tired, so completely resigned to whatever is going to happen next that she nearly lays her forehead against the pavement and closes her eyes.

But Jemma forces herself to look up, to push herself upright again, to reach for Fitz and repeat his name over and over again, shaking his shoulders and ignoring the blood. He doesn't respond but he's still breathing and maybe that counts for something.

Suddenly Jemma finds herself facing the baseball bat and the man wielding it; he seems more than a little pleased with himself for catching them.

Jemma stumbles to her feet, desperately trying to pull in a breath, to force herself to run again, to move, to get away. But she doesn't get the chance. The man is moving off the motorcycle and toward her in one fluid motion, grabbing at her roughly before she can take a single step. She opens her mouth to scream, to call out for help despite the absurdity of that impulse but he clamps a hand over her mouth, dragging her backward. She throws an elbow back, tries to step on his feet, bites down on his hand but none of it seems to do much good because he's suddenly pulling a bag over her head and she can't see anything at all.

Briefly, Jemma finds herself wishing that he'd just killed her because she has a feeling that whatever is about to happen next is going to be worse.

* * *

 

As soon as the bag is pulled off her head, Jemma gasps, her chest heaving as she pulls in the clean air. And this air is clean; no trace of smoke or blood or death anywhere. It's cool, clean, smells manufactured…she's somewhere inside. She lifts her head, her head spinning slightly as she takes in her surroundings. It doesn't take Jemma long to recognize the carpet, the thick oak paneling of the walls, the ornately framed pictures on the wall and the bookshelves loaded down with books that look impressive but have probably never been read. She's been in this office a handful of times before and has always left with her blood boiling and her frustration apparent. Vice President Sunil Bakshi always knew exactly how to push her buttons, as well as the Senator's and her supporters. Obviously he knew his place as President Whitehall's attack dog.

Jemma can't help but wonder if that's exactly what's happening now. Has the president sent out his dog yet again? Apparently Daisy wasn't wrong when she said that Jemma was being targeted specifically.

But Bakshi is nowhere to be seen at the moment. The only people in the room with Jemma are two people standing by the door, assault rifles in their hands, plastic animal masks in place. The masks are similar to the ones worn by the group who tried to kill them before they even left the government building.

Jemma thinks about trying to get them to talk to her, to use their common sense and let her go before they start violating the rules of the Purge. But she's not going to waste her time when obviously they don't care about the rules. And she's not about to start begging, not if that's going to be the last thing that she does.

Instead, Jemma just swallows and focuses on getting her breathing to return to normal, attempting to slow her heart rate. The chair that she's currently tied to isn't terribly uncomfortable; apparently Bakshi likes to restrain his prisoners in comfort. It's old, undoubtedly antique, seeing as Bakshi shares President Whitehall's affinity for things of a bygone era -like murdering your political opponents and celebrating lawless violence. She wonders if she could wiggle a chair arm loose or break the chair into pieces. Probably not before the heavily armed and not at all subtle guards came after her.

Jemma doesn't have much of a chance to start planning her escape. The office door opens and Bakshi himself strides in, immaculately dressed as always in a perfectly pressed suit, his shoes recently shined. He doesn't exactly look like the type of person who participates in the Purge but he looks exactly like the type of person who benefits from its continuation.

"Why am I not surprised?" Jemma remarks as Bakshi walks up to her. "President Whitehall is so worried about losing the election to Senator May that he's just going to kill off the competition."

Bakshi shrugs, fiddling with the cufflinks on his jacket. "Exactly as the New Founding Fathers would have wanted it." He deadpans. "You were a hard one to track down. We didn't have this much trouble with the other Ambassadors."

Jemma bites her tongue before she can ask about the Senator and the other people that she's worked with for the past two years. She doesn't want to give Bakshi the pleasure. "Only President Whitehall would break the rules he helped establish."

"Oh, he's not here." Bakshi assures her. "He's not going to get his hands dirty." There's something condescending in his tone, like she's the one beneath everyone else. Like she's the one running around advocating the murder of innocent people and killing her political opponents.

"So this is it?" Jemma questions, lifting her chin as she studies Bakshi. "You're going to kill me while I'm tied to a chair?"

Bakshi nods. "Less messy." He tells her. "We can untie you afterward, if it makes you feel better."

Jemma scoffs, letting her head knock back against the chair. "Much better, thank you." She replies dryly.

Bakshi offers no further comment, stepping away from her and toward the mahogany desk in the center of the room. He leans down, pulling a slender key out of his pocket and unlocking one of the drawers. Jemma feels like she can't stop watching him, taking in every single, minute action, like she's trying to sear it into her brain forever.

And maybe she is. But she forces herself to look away as he pulls a case out of the drawer. She doesn't want the last thing that she sees and thinks about to be Sunil Bakshi. Jemma feels a pang of regret in her chest at the thought of Daisy. She can only hope that Daisy and the others got the better of their motorcycled assailants; she hopes that Fitz is okay and that he can hang on until the hospitals open in a few hours.

When she left Daisy, it was because of the opportunity to work as a political advisor, an Ambassador from her home country. The exact same job that's put her in this very position. She and Daisy had bickered about it briefly, making it apparent that both sides were going to dig their heels on the issue. Daisy had been working to move through the ranks at the police academy; Jemma had been working to do something that actually made a difference. She'd left because it had seemed like the right thing to do, both out of spite and because she hadn't wanted to force Daisy to pick between her and her career. It had felt responsible, mature, adult. Now it just feels like a big mistake.

Maybe things wouldn't have turned out any differently. Maybe she and Daisy wouldn't have made it. Maybe this night was always inevitable, a part of their future. Or maybe they would have made it. Maybe she'd be with Daisy right now, maybe they'd be together. It seems better than being here in this office with Bakshi, waiting to die alone.

Bakshi sets the case on his desk, seeming to be in absolutely no rush. Not that he needs to worry; after all, everything he's about to do to her is perfectly legal. Jemma swallows and tries to go back to thinking about Daisy.

The sound of gunfire startles her, taking her completely by surprise. But can you blame her? She's a little bit on edge right now.

Jemma turns her head toward the closed office door just as Bakshi looks up, frowning slightly. The gunfire continues, along with the sound of something heavy being slammed into something equally as heavy.

Bakshi sighs, looking extremely put upon. "Go see what that is." He flicks his hand toward the sentries by the door. "Don't disturb us."

The two guards hurry out, leaving the door slightly ajar behind them. Bakshi doesn't make a move to close it, seemingly just as unhurried as he had before the hail of gunfire started. Jemma glances toward him, watching as he pulls a handgun out of the case. He holds it lovingly, testing the weight and feel of it in his hand. Looking at it makes Jemma feel like she can't breathe. Thinking about it firing makes it feel like her heart can't remember how to beat.

Jemma closes her eyes and tries to think about Daisy.

The sound of something clicking into place makes Jemma open her eyes again and Bakshi is standing in front of her, gun in hand, his face empty and his eyes flinty. Her stomach is churning; her heart is pounding but oddly she feels nothing at all, only the fleeting hope that Fitz and Daisy and Mack and Bobbi will still be around when the Purge is over.

Bakshi lifts the gun and levels it at her forehead. Jemma lifts her head. "Go ahead." She's impressed by how level her voice is. "Do it, you monster."

A shot rings through the room, impossibly loud, and Jemma is surprised by how much it doesn't hurt. Not that she's complaining or anything, it's a pleasant surprise. But still, she'd been expecting something.

And then Jemma realizes that she can still feel the bite of the zip ties on her wrists and the press of the chair behind her and there's the fact that Bakshi is now on the floor with his gun just out of reach.

Jemma's head whips toward the doorway and she's shocked to see Daisy standing there, gun still drawn and pointed to the space Bakshi used to occupy. At first, Jemma thinks that all her desperate attempts to remove herself from the moment and place her in a reality with Daisy have come true and she actually is dead and willed herself here, now. But she's still feeling too anchored to this moment to be halfway dead.

"Daisy," Jemma breathes out, eyes growing wide, "what-"

Daisy quickly holsters her weapon, hurrying into the room and pulling a knife from her belt. "Are you okay?" Her face is pale, drained of color aside from the streaks of blood on her skin and her hands hover over Jemma without actually making contact, like she so desperately wants to ascertain her wellbeing but can't focus long enough to actually do so. "Did he hurt you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Jemma assures her quickly, a little surprised by this fact seeing as she just had a gun pointed at her head ten seconds okay. "I'm okay. How did you…how did you know to come here?"

Daisy slides the blade of the knife under one of the zip ties, slicing it away cleanly. Immediately Jemma's hand feels like it's made of nothing but pinpricks. "One of the guys on the motorcycle. We made him tell us where they'd taken you." She doesn't elaborate on what exactly went into that confession and Jemma figures it's better not to ask.

Daisy cuts her other wrist free and Jemma rubs at the marks left behind. "Where are the others?" She questions, though that might be another question that she's better off not asking. "Mack? Bobbi? Fitz…is he…?"

"Fitz is fine for now." Daisy answers, helping Jemma to her feet. "Bobbi is with him. And Mack is here, dealing with the last of Bakshi's men." Daisy lifts her hands, resting her palms against Jemma's cheeks. "Are you sure you're okay? I thought…I thought we might not…that we would be too late…"

Jemma smiles softly, covering Daisy's hands with her own. "I'm fine." She assures her, giving her hands a squeeze. "I'm fine."

Daisy nods and after a brief moment of hesitation, she puts her arms around Jemma, pulling her into a hug. The fleeting and comforting touches they've shared all night suddenly pale in comparison to this embrace and Jemma wonders if it would be possible to spend the remaining hours of the Purge right here. It's the first time that she's really felt safe all night.

But it's over too quickly and Daisy is stepping back, a regretful look on her face. "We should find Mack." She says, though it doesn't sound like her heart is really in it. "We should-"

Her sentence ends there, punctuated by the second shot fired in as many minutes. Jemma catches only the briefest of glances at Daisy's face -lips parting slightly in surprise, eyes flickering in confusion- before Daisy falls forward, letting out a gasp of pain as she hits the ground.

Bakshi is sitting mostly upright, grimacing in the pain that his gunshot wound is causing him, his pistol leveled at the spot where Daisy had just been standing. He moves to point it at Jemma but she moves too quickly for him to actually fire. She's never put her hands on someone with the intention to hurt them; never in her life did she ever imagine herself wanting to do that, to purposefully hurt someone and cause them pain. But right now, she wants to do more than that. She wants to kill him.

As much as she hates it, Jemma suddenly understands the meaning of the phrase 'release the beast.'

Jemma wrestles the gun from Bakshi, forcing him back to the floor with the heel of her hand pressing into his neck. She points the pistol at him but she can't quite bring herself to pull the trigger; her beast is apparently reined in just enough. Instead, she hits him with the butt of the pistol as hard as she can. And then she hits him a second time, for good measure. Not that she needed to have bothered. Bakshi falls back onto the floor with a heavy thump, officially down for the count.

Quickly, Jemma tosses the gun aside, scrambling away from Bakshi and over to Daisy. Thankfully, she finds that Daisy is still breathing, whimpering a little with the effort that each breath seems to take. She rolls Daisy over quickly, pressing her hands to her side. "Daisy. Daisy, stay with me." She entreats, her eyes searching Daisy's face. "Where are you hit?"

Surprisingly, Daisy actually manages a smile that actually looks more like a grimace than anything but it's definitely the opposite of the expression Jemma figures she would be making at this moment. Even more surprising is the fact that she doesn't have any blood on her hands, even though she feels like she's checked Daisy over pretty thoroughly.

"Bullet proof vest, remember?" Daisy winces as she sits up, putting a hand on Jemma's shoulder to steady herself. "Still hurts like a bitch, though."

Jemma lets out a breath and suddenly feels like she just might burst into tears right then and there. And so what if she does?

Instead, she settles for throwing her arms around Daisy again, pulling her close and burying her face in the side of her neck like she'd wanted to do earlier that night. It suddenly seems completely ridiculous to hold back.

* * *

 

Jemma sits in the hard plastic chair in the waiting room of the closest hospital, watching the news as it unfolds on the TV bolted to the wall. Predictably, all of the footage is of the night's Purge; the security camera footage and cell phone videos are almost too much to watch and Jemma is grateful when the image turns to something else. Senator May hasn't wasted any time in getting up in front of an audience, speaking out about the evils of the Purge wearing what appear to be last night's clothes -if the wrinkles and blood stains are any indication- and sporting a butterfly bandage on her forehead. Jemma wonders how many people are actually going to be interested in listening to her message and how many people are already looking forward to the next Purge.

Later, Jemma is going to get in touch with the Senator and offer to do everything that she can to help her get elected over the incumbent Whitehall. It's not exactly like she was passive before but there's nothing like surviving your very first Purge to make you feel a little more adamant about putting a stop to it.

Thankfully Jemma made it through the night with little more than a few bumps and bruises and some bandages on her wrists. She's been in the waiting room long enough to know that there are plenty of people who weren't so lucky.

"Ambassador Simmons?" The voice causes Jemma to look away from the television and return her thoughts to the present. There's an orderly standing several feet away, looking utterly exhausted and bedraggled, undoubtedly bracing himself for a long day. "You can go in now."

Jemma gives him a grateful smile, getting to her feet and leaving the waiting room behind. First, she stops by Fitz's room, relieved to see that some of the color is returning to her friend's cheeks. There's a bandage wrapped around his head and wires and monitors hooked up to his arms and chest but he looks a little better, if Jemma allows herself to be optimistic. He hasn't woken up yet but the doctors seem relatively hopeful about his prognosis. It's difficult to leave his room but Jemma promises herself that she'll return soon and hopefully find that even more improvements have been made.

The hospital is understandably crowded. There are patients sitting in the hallway, trussed up in slings and casts, getting stitches or being bandaged by exhausted nurses and doctors. A few of them look up as Jemma passes by, their eyes following her; she's certain that several of them recognize her and she's not entirely sure if their expressions are supportive or antagonistic. If Garrett could spot her from several yards away then Jemma is pretty sure that anyone with even a passing interest in the nation's events is sure to know her face. She doesn't stop to find out whether the people staring at her are supporters of the Senator's or not.

The hospital rooms are equally as crowded; there are plenty of people with less serious injuries that they can stick into the same room. Despite the half dozen or so people crammed into this one room, Jemma spots Daisy immediately. She's propped up in bed, looking dejected and miserable in her crinkly hospital gown with her leg stretched out in front of her, thigh bandaged in a far more professional manner than Jemma managed in the subway station. There are a few bandages on her cheeks and arms and she's sporting a few stitches on her forehead. Jemma is certain that Daisy is sporting a nasty bruise underneath her attractive hospital gown but if that's all that happened after her run-in with Bakshi's bullet, then Jemma will count them both lucky.

Daisy is lucky that she's still alive. Jemma is lucky that she still has Daisy.

It definitely makes it easy to walk up to the side of her hospital bed and kiss her softly. If Daisy is surprised by this particular action, she doesn't show it. "Well, hello to you too, Ambassador Simmons." She grins. "Is this some new way you government people are trying to earn support?"

"Yes, of course." Jemma assures her. "It's a new program, very detailed. Constituent satisfaction guaranteed."

"Sounds promising." Jemma thinks Daisy's smile will probably be enough to finish the job that Bakshi started. "Are you gonna bust me out of this place? Because I think the laws about public indecency are back in effect."

Jemma rolls her eyes. "I'll see what I can do. I do have friends in high places, after all." But she doesn't make a move to leave Daisy's side. Instead, she reaches for her hand, lacing their fingers together. "Thank you." She says softly, feeling like she could say those words over and over again for the rest of their lives and still not feel like she's successfully thanked Daisy. "You saved my life."

"All in a day's work." Daisy assures her, shifting her position and then grimacing immediately. "But let's not do that again, okay? Maybe get your friends in high places to do something about that?"

Jemma nods. "Tomorrow." She assures Daisy. "Now move over," she pokes Daisy gently in her non-bruised side, "I need a nap and this place is as good as any."

"Oh, is that all I am to you?" Daisy questions, though she does as she's been asked and carefully shifts over in the bed to make room for Jemma. There's no exactly space for two people in the bed but neither of them are really in the mood to deal with spatial logistics. "Just a place to take a nap?"

Jemma lifts her head to kiss Daisy again softly and again it feels like all that space is gone between them, like the two years that passed when they were apart doesn't mean anything at all. Daisy slips her arm around Jemma's waist, pulling her even closer and Jemma rests her head on Daisy's shoulder, surprised by how quickly her eyes drop closed and how her body seems to relax immediately. She feels safe and protected, lulled into contentment by the sensation of Daisy's chest rising and falling.

Tomorrow she'll start her work with Senator May and do whatever it takes to get rid of the Purge. But for right now, she just wants to take a nap. She figures that she's entitled to a little bit of rest.


End file.
